


If I mean anything at all...

by Dolavine



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, First Time, M/M, Rimming, Werewolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 07:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8319727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolavine/pseuds/Dolavine
Summary: Derek is leaving Beacon Hills. Stiles can’t let him leave without telling him how he feels, and showing him what Derek means to him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [selecasharp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/selecasharp/gifts).



> For Selecasharp birthday, a little late.

Another pack meeting, another ‘Derek Hale asserts his Alpha power’ meeting. Stiles isn’t sure if he should be attending these meetings, but he comes anyway – despite the lack of invitation – as a tag-along with Scott.

Everyone is here: Erica, Boyd, Scott, the entire gang, well, pack. 

Derek comes in, and looks around the room. His eyes settle on Stiles with a look of confusion before he looks away. He clears his throat with authority and everyone hushes.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush, I asked you all here to tell you that I’m leaving Beacon Hills.” Derek lets his gaze land on Scott. Everyone looks shocked at this revelation except for Scott. “I know you have questions, but all I can say is that I’m not your Alpha anymore.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m leaving in two days. I’m not sure if or when I’ll be back.” He looks at each of them, his eyes stopping at Stiles, and his gaze seems to have a deeper look of sadness than it did for those actually in his pack. Stiles meets his gaze with longing before breaking eye contact.

Everyone is murmuring, but not asking questions. Stiles isn’t sure what to do, or if he should possibly do anything to quell the chaos that’s building. He looks at Derek just standing there as his pack wants answers.

“So, you’re leaving – where does that leave your pack?” Stiles speaks up.

“It doesn’t affect you. You're human, not part of our pack.” Derek dismisses Stiles’s concerns.

“It doesn’t affect me?” Stiles stands up and stalks over to Derek. “Fuck you, Derek Hale. It affects all of us if you leave. You can’t just call a meeting and spring something like this on them – on _us_. You are their Alpha, their leader, and they _do_ rely on you.” He doesn’t let Derek defend himself when he looks at Stiles with that sheepish scowl and takes a deep breath like he’s going to speak. “Just stop – nothing you can say is going to change what you are doing,” Stiles huffs as he turns to storm out of the loft. Scott calls to him not to leave, but Stiles just slams the large metal door behind himself, not letting Scott’s plea stop him.

When Stiles reaches his jeep, he’s breathing hard, his cheeks are flushed, and his eyes are teary. He climbs in and wipes his face with his palms. He slams his hand on the duct-taped dashboard and then fires up the jeep. The engine roars to life but he can’t bring himself to drive away. He looks up at the big bay window of Derek’s loft and wipes wetness from his cheeks. He slams his hand on the steering wheel this time and then slumps forward, his head resting on it. 

“Damn it, Derek,” he sobs angrily. Stiles has been secretly, stalker-ishly, in love with – maybe just overly infatuated with, or even just amazingly hot for – Derek for a while now. He can’t bring himself to tell Derek, or show him how he feels. Derek Hale is straight. He likes girls – women, those of the female persuasion – and Stiles is far from that. Up until now, the shadows have sufficed. Secretly fantasizing, drooling, gazing, stalking, and masturbating, have been enough, but now, now that Derek is leaving, and may not ever coming back, Stiles feels the need to tell, no… to _show_ Derek how he feels.

There has to be a plan, things need to be just right. Stiles is staring up at the window again, watching Derek’s long muscular shadow walking back and forth, his amazingly big arms moving emphatically as he apparently quells chaotic rumblings among his wolves.

Suddenly Scott and Erica storm out of the building. Boyd isn’t far behind them. Scott takes off on his bike and Boyd and Erica race off in Boyd's car.

Stiles sits there, looking up at the window, thinking about Derek being in there all alone and probably upset. 

“Fuck plans,” he says and climbs out of the jeep. He’s heading to the door when he suddenly realizes that he has no game at all.

He stands at Derek’s loft door, ready to knock. “Plans are good,” he exhales and then knocks on the door anyway.

Derek’s pacing the floor, worrying about the fact that the pack now hates him, feeling he’s betrayed them with his news, when a knock comes at the door. He stalks over to answer it. He’s in no mood for company right now, especially angry beta wolves. When he gets near the door he smells Stiles, a scent he’s all too familiar with. He stops to take in the scent, only to find that instead of boy sweat and body spray, it’s all nervousness and fear. He cautiously opens the door, trying not show any expression, when he’s faced with Stiles standing in front of him. Stiles’s expression mimics his scent. 

“Stiles?” Derek says, wondering why he’s come back. “What do you want?” He acts disgusted. “You here to give me your two cents about leaving?” He opens the door wider, signaling him inside, and walks away.

“Would my two cents make any difference?” Stiles asks as he steps inside, shutting the big metal door behind him. 

“Not really.” Derek turns around to face Stiles again. “I have my reasons and they are sound,” he says as he sits down on the overstuffed chair and crosses his legs, his bare foot dangling down, head tilted to the left and arms stretched out over the armrests like he’s the Godfather.

Stiles’s eyes settle on Derek’s bare foot; he swallows audibly, trying to calm himself. “I’m sure they are.” Stiles swallows hard again and walks over to the sofa to sit closer to Derek. His hands are sweating as he clasps them together nervously, resting his elbows on his knees and hunching over. His leg is bouncing and he’s licking his lips as he tries to figure out what to say.

“So…” Derek turns to Stiles with his eyebrow cocked and an expectant look. Stiles smells more like fear and arousal now, rather than nervousness, and Derek just wants to know why he’s even here. 

Stiles runs a hand through his hair, licks his lips, and looks into Derek’s eyes. _It’s now or never,_ he tells himself. There’s a lump in his throat as he starts to speak. “I’ve kind of felt this thing, this connection between us for a while now…” His voice is unsure and he kind of wants to stop and leave right now, but he can’t; he’s come this far, and the worst that can happen is Derek doesn’t feel the same.

“A connection?” Derek’s quickly putting things together.

“Yeah, you let me be a part of the pack meetings and…” He’s not doing this right, he’s not saying what he really, really wants to tell Derek.

“Of course. You’re Scott’s friend and you help sometimes.” Derek kind of wants to know how this conversation is going to end. The scent of Stiles’s arousal is flagging and fear is taking over.

“Yeah, but…” Stiles is flustered; his face feels hot and he just wants to throw his arms around Derek and kiss him, show him how he feels instead. He stands up, rubbing his sweaty palms on his thighs. “It’s you, I come to the meetings to see you, be around you.” He turns away as he’s speaking, his voice low and timid, like he doesn’t want Derek to actually hear it, but he knows he will because of his damned wolf hearing. 

“Me?” Derek stands up and turns Stiles back around to face him. He’s fine with Stiles having a crush on him, because as much as he’s tried not to admit it, he’s been paying a little bit too much attention to Stiles too. 

Stiles looks into Derek’s big hazel eyes and almost melts. “Yes, you. I like you, Derek Hale.” He says it and he waits as Derek’s expression goes from confused to light-bulb-just-came-on realization. 

Derek’s not sure what to say. He doesn’t want to tell Stiles that he finds him attractive, that he’s jerked off to his scent, or that he’d love to push him down into the sofa and have his way with him right now. “I’m not really good at this, Stiles,” is all he says. The look on Stiles’s face is one of disappointment and exasperation.

“You really are a sour-wolf,” Stiles says, his heart breaking, and yeah, Derek not responding to his confession really is the worst thing that could happen. “I really don’t even know why I bothered to come here.” He turns to leave.

Suddenly Stiles’s scent overwhelms Derek with its sadness and despair. Derek’s heart races and he can’t let Stiles leave like this. “Wait, Stiles,” he calls out, stepping behind him and putting his arm out to hold the door shut.

Stiles turns; he can barely look Derek in the eyes. “There isn’t anything left to say. I poured my heart out, told you how I’m feeling, and you just didn’t even have a response.” 

“I’m no good at this,” Derek says again, this time a little more quietly as he looks earnestly into Stiles’s eyes.

“You’re no good at what? Talking? Because believe me, Mr. Stoic, we’ve all got that memo.” Stiles protects himself with words. 

“No – this.” Derek’s struggling, not sure what to do; he’s leaving and Stiles wants to have a heart-to-heart about feelings that they’ve never shared before.

“Sharing?” Stiles takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I’ve been holding this in for so long, wanting to tell you, to – to show you how I’ve been feeling, but you always seemed out of reach and now you are leaving and I can’t – I – I just can’t hold it back anymore.” Stiles can feel all of his emotions flooding to the surface. “I think about you all of the time, I want to be near you, touch you, and call you mine.” His voice is shaky.

“Yours?” Derek blinks and looks at Stiles with surprise.

“Yes, mine.” Stiles looks into Derek’s eyes and sees softness in his expression. “You drive me crazy, so crazy that I sometimes sit outside of your window like a stalker hoping to see you. You literally have driven me crazy.”

Derek’s mind is reeling; he never thought he’d hear this, never thought he’d feel this way about anyone, but he has to admit that he does want Stiles more than he realized. Stiles is still talking but Derek has no clue what he’s saying when he interrupts him.

“There’s something about you that drives me completely crazy too.”

“What?” Stiles stops talking, and leans in closer to Derek, intrigued at the confession.

“Your mouth… and that thing you do with it.” Derek runs his thumb over Stiles’s lower lip.

“What do I do with it?” Stiles trembles a little at the touch as Derek smears the dry flesh of his lower lip with the pad of his thumb.

“You talk.” Derek puts his thumb over both of Stiles’s lips and holds them shut. “Too much, now shut the fuck up.” Derek leans in and replaces his thumb with his lips.

“Mmmm-umf,” Stiles mumbles through the kiss. He can’t believe how good it feels, how Derek’s scruff feels rubbing the skin around his mouth, the warm wet pressure of his lips, and the way Derek’s hands feel gripping onto his upper arms to pull him even closer. It’s more than he could have ever imagined their first kiss being, more than he had ever fantasized about at night alone between his sheets as he beat off to the idea of it. 

When Stiles opens his eyes, Derek is staring at him – those big hazel eyes are actually smiling at him, and instead of a sour frown he’s smiling tenderly. 

“Mmmm,” Stiles hums as he licks the taste of Derek off his lips, which turn up into a goofy love-sick grin. 

“You have the longest, most beautiful eyelashes,” Derek whispers as he examines Stiles’s face like he’s never seen it before. He’s caressing Stiles’s cheek with his thumb as his fingers trace the mold of his ear’s shell. 

“Thanks.” Stiles cheeks are hot with a rosy blush.

“You’re adorable.” Derek pulls him back in for a kiss. It’s less tender and more passionate this time. Derek nips at Stiles’s lower lip, then licks over the area, slipping inside and brushing the tip of his tongue over Stiles’s. 

Stiles clutches Derek’s shoulders, trying hard to be inside of him as he presses his chest tight against Derek’s. “You don’t even know how long I’ve wanted this.” He’s breathless from the kiss.

“Stiles, I never wanted this…” Derek pauses, his arms wrapping around Stiles as he buries his face in his neck and takes a long deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of the boy’s arousal. “I _needed_ this,” he says on the exhale. He starts kissing the pulse point of Stiles’s neck, sucking and licking that long expanse as Stiles leans his head to the side, giving him more access.

Derek’s hands slide down Stiles’s flanks to cup his firm round ass and squeeze. He pulls Stiles in close and scoops him up, pulling his thighs up, gripping under Stiles’s knees until he feels Stiles wrap those long legs around his waist, all the while still kissing Stiles’s neck. He moves them over to the sofa and lays Stiles back, planting his own knees on the sofa as he perches over Stiles’s long lean body.

“I want to eat you up,” Derek growls. His cock is hard as he rocks down onto Stiles’s crotch. His mouth moves down to the small dip of Stiles’s collarbone, swiping his tongue under the collar of his t-shirt, tasting the salty sheen of Stile’s sweat. Stiles’s heart is beating fast, his breathing is rapid, and he’s digging his fingernails into Derek’s hard, muscular shoulder blades. Derek loves the biting burn of those blunt nails into his overheated skin. 

“I’m delicious,” Stiles moans as Derek brushes over his straining hard-on. He pushes back, grinding against Derek, searching for more friction.

Derek chuckles at Stiles’s snark, still present even during sex. “Is this t-shirt special?” he asks as he pulls at the hem, trying to ruck it up under Stiles’s arms to get better access at his chest.

“No.” Stiles is wriggling, trying to help get it off too. 

“Good.” Derek takes hold and without ceremony rips it up the middle, splaying it open so he can lick, nibble, and suck along Stiles’s slim torso. His tongue traces the deep groove of Stiles’s sternum, then sucks red marks along the top of his rib cage, all the way across from nipple to nipple, before stopping to gently catch one of the pert nubs between his blunt teeth and flicking over it with the tip of his tongue. Stiles arches his back, his shoulders digging into the sofa with the bow of his body as he moans.

“Fuck,” he groans, his eyes squeezed shut as his hands instinctively grab for Derek’s head and pull at his hair. “So fucking good.” He digs his heels into the sofa cushions with the maddening pleasure.

Derek doesn’t stop – he sucks the stiff peak into his mouth and then sucks so hard on it that he pulls it up and away from Stiles’s body before letting it slip from his lips. Stiles whimpers as Derek repeats the action on the other one. Derek’s hands dip below Stiles’s waistband, fingering over Stiles’s hip bones, his thumbs pressing into the grooves as he continues to rotate his hips into Stiles’s bulge, making Stiles thrust urgently in return.

“Off…” Stiles gasps. He’s undoing the button of his jeans and trying to shove them down.

Derek grabs Stiles’s wrists to slow him down. “Whoa – hang on.” He lifts up onto his knees and hovers over Stiles. “Let me,” he says, reaching down and slowly unzipping Stiles’s jeans, revealing the hard line trapped and pushing against his boxers. Derek licks his lips like he’s looking at dessert. He stops and looks up at Stiles – there is innocence behind his desire, and he has to ask if this is going to go any further. “Are you… sure about this?” He thinks about how they are going from zero to a hundred after a messy, confusing confession of hidden feelings. He has to know that Stiles really understands this and isn’t just going along with it.

“Yes, of course I do.” Stiles rotates his hips, urging for more, but Derek is just looking at him. “You –want this, right?” He sits up on his elbows and asks because he’s worried that Derek is having second thoughts now.

Derek smiles darkly; he moves his fingers from the zipper to the bulge under the light blue cotton of Stiles’s boxers and lightly traces it. “I – most definitely want you,” he says as he cocks his eyebrow and moves his eyes from Stiles’s gaze down to his hard cock. Derek’s palm replaces the tickle of light fingers as he presses firmly, cupping the hard member. “I’ve been thinking about tearing you apart and putting you back together for a long time. You – don’t even know what you do to me.” Derek leans down and kisses along the waistband of the boxers, dipping his tongue underneath before taking them in his teeth and pulling them down to expose just the head of Stiles’s cock, his hand still massaging over the hard shaft of Stiles’s cock. 

Stiles is moaning and whimpering with each touch. “Mmm, please,” he mewls. His hips cant up and Derek puts a hand back on Stiles’s left hip to hold him down.

“Hold still,” Derek commands. He licks over the head and almost every muscle in Stiles’s body tenses at the action. Derek loves how he reacts, so he does it again, just to feel Stiles wriggle under him. “So hot,” Derek mumbles as he kisses the head, eliciting a soft whimper from Stiles.

“Oh God,” Stiles whispers breathlessly as he digs his fingers into the sofa cushions. His thighs tense and he curls his toes from the pleasure. “Your mouth,” he groans loudly. 

Derek growls as he tastes the precome that spills out in a large bead. He swipes it up, savoring its muskiness. He wants more, wants more of Stiles in his mouth. He pulls the boxers off Stiles’s hard-on and licks up the shaft. It’s thin and long and absolutely delicious. He hums all the way up, licking it like a popsicle. He swirls around the head, dipping inside of the slit and then sucking it down to the base.

“O-O-O-OH!” Stiles sobs shakily. His hands find Derek’s head and start grappling at his scalp for purchase. He wants to pull his head up and off or shove it down farther, all at once. He never thought that having his cock sucked could feel so wonderful and painful at the same time. He wants to buck and squirm and writhe and cry out a string of blasphemy that would require an exorcism to reclaim his soul. “S-S-S-Sooooo good.” Stiles gasps. He’s going crazy – going mad – going _insane_ with the intense pleasure. 

Derek doesn’t stop, bobbing up and down as he sucks with a slow excruciating pace. He’s enjoying the way Stiles is trying not to buck up, and how he’s on edge. But he wants more to play with, so he sits up and pulls down Stiles’s jeans and boxers, then slowly removes his sneakers and socks. Stiles has long thin feet; Derek kisses the top of each big toe before taking off the jeans and boxers completely. 

He looks at Stiles’s long naked body, every inch of his soft pale skin, and thinks about how much he wants to taste all of it. Derek starts slow; he slides his hands up Stiles’s legs to his knees and leans down to kiss them, swirling his tongue over the cap and making Stiles flinch and gasp. He smiles as he mouths over Stiles’s lean muscular thighs, his lips tracing over them, ghosting the flesh until it gets goose-bumps. 

Stiles is moaning, his hands clutching at Derek’s shoulders as he tries not to jerk or kick. Derek’s mouth is so hot on his skin, he loves it. “Your mouth,” he groans again when he finally manages to form actual words.

Derek reaches Stiles’s balls; he tenderly licks over the sac then sucks one inside of his mouth and gently rolls it with his tongue before letting it slip out and moving on to the next one. “Oh fuck,” Stiles cries out, his legs squeezing tight to Derek’s shoulders before relaxing when Derek releases his testicle. 

“Mmmm, you taste so much better than I imagined,” Derek coos as he licks the seam to the tender perineum behind his balls, pushing at it and then sucking the soft flesh. He feels like he’s losing control, like he can barely hang on with the desire coursing through him. Derek’s cock is hard, leaking onto the soft cotton of his boxers and making an impossibly large wet spot that’s bleeding through his jeans. He feels his claws come out as he growls against the skin between the hard globes of Stiles’s balls and the tender pucker just under his chin. He moves down and slides his tongue over the pink wrinkled hole. It’s musky and Derek loves the taste, so raw. He growls again, his nails barely scratching over Stiles’s tight thighs. 

“Oh-my- _god_.” Stiles arches his body, his heels digging into the sofa and his cock jerking as it leaks a long string of precome over his belly. “I – I never, oh – I – God, it feels so good.” He thrusts his hips and feels the hot bite of Derek’s claws. “Jesus!” He loves it as they scratch over the tender skin. “More,” he cries out, his cock swelling to the point of hurting and leaking a never-ending stream of precome as it begs to be stroked.

Derek swirls around the opening again and then a thought crosses his mind, a thought that never occurred to him until this very second: _Stiles might be a virgin_. He looks up from between Stiles’s legs, his fangs out, his eyes red. He has to ask. 

“Stiles,” he says.

Stiles looks down, his cheeks flushed pink, his eyes glassed over, his skin showing a thin sheen of sweat. “What?”

“Have you ever…” Derek wants to know if he’s taking Stiles’s virginity. “…been with anybody before?”

Stiles smiles shyly. “No, you’re the first,” he pants. “But I’ve had a lot of practice with myself.” He bites his lower lip with his admission.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Derek's claws start to retract.

“You’re not, I love it, feels so good, everything that you’re doing is so good.” Stiles takes Derek’s hand. “Please, don’t stop, don’t retract your claws or fangs or change a thing, please just give me more.” He touches the side of Derek’s face and fingers over his raised brow. “You are amazing and so fucking sexy.”

Derek smiles as he pulls Stiles’s hand down to his mouth to kiss the palm. “You are gorgeous and snarky and I want to eat you all up.” He lowers back down between Stiles’s thighs and starts to kiss and lick all over the thin crease between his round firm cheeks, swiping over the hole then up to the cleft, enjoying all of the dirty noises his lover is making. He feels Stiles wrap a hand around his own dick and Derek can’t have that; he reaches up with a hand and pushes Stiles’s away, only to replace it with his own. 

“I’ll take care of that,” he mumbles into Stiles’s skin, his eyes peeking up from between the V of Stiles’s thighs. He starts to stroke as he laps over the sensitive hole. 

Stiles is bucking and grinding down, his cock spasming, his pucker winking and flexing with each pass of Derek’s probing tongue. “Can’t hold on,” he says breathlessly. His belly is fluttering with heat and his cock is pulsing. 

“Wanna see you come,” Derek says, lifting his head and licking his spit-soaked lips. He speeds up his hand, pulling the shaft and bumping the underside of the head, his thumb coming up and smearing over the leaking slit to drag down the clear liquid as lube. He takes a claw from his other hand and lightly runs it around the pucker, over the perineum and along the thick seam of Stiles’s balls. “Come for me,” he commands. 

“Gonna…” Stiles groans as his thighs get rock hard and his belly explodes with the fireball churning inside; he comes in thick streams shooting into the air. He’s gripping the back of the sofa; each pump of Derek’s hand and each prick of his claws has him almost ready to pass out. He can’t breathe, he can barely see, but his body is on the head of a pin with sensitivity and each movement, each caress, makes Stiles moan with excruciating pleasure. “Can’t…” he whispers. “Please…” he begs and Derek stops moving, stops kissing, stops scratching him. Stiles starts to relax and just enjoy the afterglow of everything.

Derek sits up and puts Stiles’s legs over his lap, then runs a fingertip over the wet mess painting Stiles’s chest and belly and licks it off of his finger. “You taste like candy,” he says, savoring the tiny smear across his lower lip. He’s impossibly hard and throbbing; he can’t stand the need anymore, so he hastily shoves his hand down inside of his jeans and starts to relieve the tension.

Stiles snaps out of his haze when he feels the fast bump of Derek’s hand against his calf. He opens his eyes to see Derek jerking off and quickly sits up to take Derek’s arm and stop him. “No, please, I want to do it,” he says as he turns around so that he’s sitting next to Derek, his hip pressed into Derek’s hip.

“Are you sure?” Derek pulls his precome-slicked palm out of his jeans and relaxes against Stiles’s body, like he’s trying to melt into him.

“Absolutely,” Stiles says, leaning in to claim a kiss. “I wanna please you too,” he purrs into the kiss. His hand slides across Derek’s lap, up to the waistband of his jeans and then wiggles down inside, over the damp fleshy head. His fingers explore the still-trapped phallus before he wraps his thin nimble fingers around the thick shaft of Derek’s dick. He starts to shallowly pump it as he kisses Derek’s eager mouth. 

Derek growls, a low deep sound that isn’t anger but intense pleasure. “Fuck, your hand feels so damned good, Stiles,” he says with a low grumble, pitching his hips forward in rhythm with Stiles’s strokes. He’s caressing Stiles’s elbow as it flexes with each movement. “You don’t know how I’ve wanted you,” he confesses. 

“Not longer than me, I bet,” Stiles mumbles into the flesh of Derek’s neck. He’s licking along the thick muscle next to his pulse point, enjoying the way Derek’s matching his strokes, the heaviness in his breathing, and how he’s touching him in return.

“It’s not a contest,” Derek moans as Stiles’s thumb circles the head and slips over the slit. 

“Wanna see you,” Stiles whispers as he sucks on the soft hollow of Derek’s throat. 

Before Stiles can finish the sentence, Derek unbuttons his jeans and pulls them off of his hips. He looks down and watches Stiles’s hand working over him. “Fuck, that’s sexy.” His voice is a low growl, his eyes glued to the show. 

“Damn, I knew you were big, but…” Stiles is hovering over Derek’s abdomen now, his face leaning on the soft cotton of the black t-shirt as he examines his crush's dick. “Are all werewolves this big?” His tone has wonderment in it. 

Derek chuckles between heaving puffs of breath. “I don’t go around examining other men’s junk, Stiles.”

“And I thought it might look different because of that knotting thing that I’ve heard about.” Stiles moves closer to the head; he wants to taste the thin clear beads of precome trickling from the slit.

“That’s not a thing, Stiles. Stop looking things up on Google, you – can’t believe the internet.” He clutches Stiles’s neck when the warm wet swipe of his tongue glides over the head of his cock. “Fuck!” he exclaims and bucks his hips forward uncontrollably. His cock slams into Stiles’s mouth and Stiles pulls back.

The taste is better than he thought it might be, so he swirls his tongue over the slit and gathers up more of the mess. “Mmmmm,” he hums. He’s never given a blowjob before and just had his own BJ cherry popped, so like a curious boy, he’s returning the favor. He cautiously opens his mouth and takes in the head, doesn’t go any farther down, just wraps his lips over the head and sucks at it. He continues to pump the shaft as he’s awkwardly engulfing the crest. It feels really good in his mouth, warm and thick as the salty precome paints his tongue. Stiles thinks he likes giving head and wants to go farther down, so he opens up a little wider and sheaths his teeth like he’s seen girls do in porno movies. He shifts his hips so he can lean down and swallows a little more of Derek’s big cock.

“Shit,” Derek hisses, and his dick spasms when he feels Stiles’s mouth take more of it. His balls go instantly tight and he knows he can barely hold back much longer.

Stiles moves a hand down between Derek’s legs and palms the tight sac nestled there. They’re heavy and he likes it. He’s slurping over half of Derek’s dick now; he’s really enjoying it, and he wants more of it, deeper down his throat. He pushes forward but suddenly gags and pulls up. His eyes are watering. He’s visibly jolted by it and Derek gently rubs the back of his neck.

“It’s okay, Stiles, it happens to everyone the first time. Just take it slow,” he says with a deep lusty whisper. His hips are still thrusting shallowly as he waits for Stiles to recover.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says nervously. He wipes the slobber from the side of his mouth and then the tears from the corners of his eyes. He pumps the shaft again and licks his lips to wet them before going back down.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Derek rasps, his claws coming out and scratching the nape of Stiles’s neck. His toes are curling into the hardwood floors, his long thick nails digging into the wood with each short bob of Stiles’s head. “God…” he groans. He knows he’s gonna come any second.

Stiles likes the feeling of the sharp pinches on his neck and it makes him moan against the hard flesh filling his mouth as he sucks harder on Derek’s thick dick. He shucks over the spit-slicked shaft as he bumps his nose into his hand with each pass. His other hand is still tucked between Derek’s thighs, kneading the tight globes of his balls. 

“Oh fucking hell,” Derek growls and thrusts his hips forward, shoving his cock deeper into Stiles’s drooling mouth, and comes down his virgin throat.

Stiles gags and sputters but doesn’t stop; he just lets the bitter jizz fill the back of his throat as he fights the urge to pull up and spit. His throat relaxes when Derek stills and stops bombarding his throat, and he’s able to swallow as the spurts quell and Derek loosens his grip on the back of his head, the claws just gently scratching, not cutting into his scalp anymore. He’s not complaining; he definitely likes how Derek loses control with him since Stiles always gets hard when Derek wolfs out.

“Damn,” Derek pants breathlessly as he lets go of Stiles completely so he can sit up. “Not bad for a beginner,” he manages as he helps lift Stiles up, the pearly dregs of come clinging to the corner of his thin smiling mouth. Derek runs his thumb through it and then sticks it between Stiles’s lips. “Good to the last drop,” he quips before pulling Stiles into a deep kiss.

“I never thought this could – would happen.” Stiles looks deep into Derek’s dark hazel eyes. “I – never thought I meant anything to you, like I was just this boy, Scott's pesky friend.” He leans against Derek’s chest and puts a hand over Derek’s still fast-beating heart.

“I – I’m no good at showing how I feel, Stiles.” Derek buries his face in Stiles’s hair and inhales his scent. “It’s just,” he wraps his arms tight around Stiles, “I wanted you so much and my life is such a mess, I didn’t want to tangle you up in it.”

“I’m already part of your mess,” Stiles says, looking up into Derek’s eyes again and shoving his hand behind Derek’s broad shoulders to hold on to him even tighter. “You can’t deny that now.”

“I’m not denying you anymore,” Derek says, hauling Stiles across his lap and cradling him close.

“Does that mean you’re staying now?” Stiles runs a finger through the fine soft hairs on Derek’s masculine chest.

Derek sighs hard and closes his eyes. “Stiles, I have to go. I have things to take care of and if I don’t leave to do them…” He squeezes Stiles close, hoping he understands. “Things in Beacon Hills might never be the same again.” He kisses Stiles’s temple lovingly.

“But you’ll be back – right?” Stiles’s chest feels tight.

“I can’t make any promises, but if it all goes as planned, yes. I’ll be back.” Derek definitely has something he wants to come back to now. He doesn’t want to leave Stiles, not now, not after this, but he has no choice.

“If I mean anything at all to you, you will make _sure_ it all goes well.” Stiles pulls up and kisses Derek softly. “’Cause, I want to do this,” he points back and forth between them and wiggles his eyebrows, “again.”

“Now it has to all go well, because I definitely want to do this,” Derek mimics Stiles’s motion, “forever.” He pulls Stiles up and practically devours his mouth, growling softly into it.

“Maybe again in fifteen minutes,” Stiles chuckles softly as he kisses Derek back. “I’m giving you a little time to recover.”

The End


End file.
